


What's Worth Keeping

by heathered



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-13
Updated: 2010-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-11 01:59:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heathered/pseuds/heathered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which things don't stay buried. AU post-1x10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Worth Keeping

Arthur is much too quiet to be sleeping. If he were cleverer, Morgana thinks, he would attempt to feign snoring; of course, that would mean acknowledging the fact that he snores at all, and Arthur's pride is much too fragile for that.

It's a strange thought to be having in the middle of the night; especially tonight. From her seat on a wide rock, she keeps her eyes trained on Arthur's shoulders, on the broad expanse of his back, as he lies on his side where she can't see his face.

She can hardly blame him for being restless. After all, she can't pretend nearly as well as he can at the moment so she isn't even trying. None of them are resting particularly easy tonight, and it makes Morgana wonder why they even bothered to stop and rest.

She hears the faint rustle of metal and turns to Gwen, who has Morgana's mail in her lap as she sits beside her. She runs her hands over it, feeling for mangles in the fine mesh. She can't fix them now; she has neither the tools nor sufficient light, but Morgana knows it's more that Gwen keeps her hands busy at times like this.

Not that there's ever been a time _quite_ like this.

If she didn't know better, Morgana would think that Gwen already knew. If it weren't for the furrow between Gwen's brows, she'd swear it.

Then how is it that she's so calm? And why will _no one_ talk about it? The ride from Ealdor has been endless, full of the sort of tense silence that Merlin's usually so good at breaking. It would almost be funny, except for the fact that it's utterly maddening.

"My lady?" Gwen stills her hands and looks at Morgana, clearly having heard Morgana's quiet groan of frustration. Twisting her fingers in her cloak, Morgana looks over her shoulder at Merlin, who lies sleeping opposite the fire from Arthur, then back at Gwen.

"It's nothing," Morgana attempts a (rather strained) smile, but she can only maintain the pretence for a moment, and she sighs. "Did he ever tell you?"

Gwen chances a quick glance over her shoulder as well, and shakes her head as she turns back to Morgana, speaking quietly. "No. "

"But he's your friend," Morgana presses.

"He's still my friend."

"He should have said something," Morgana maintains. "I wish he'd told me -- told someone ..."

"So he could be thrown in the dungeons?" Gwen asks in a hushed whisper, leaning closer so that Morgana can hear her. "So the King could have his head? I would happily never find out if it would save him that."

Gwen drops her gaze and looks away from Morgana, busying her hands again. "I can understand never wanting to take that risk."

"Gwen --" Morgana's mind flashes back months; she remembers looking at Gwen through iron bars, tears welling in both their eyes.

"It's all right, my Lady," Gwen shakes her head. "I didn't mean to speak so ... this is just. I don't want anything to happen to him. To either of you."

Morgana feels cold at that. Gwen knows about her dreams, but they've not talked about what they mean, not since her nightmares about Sophia came true. And Morgana doesn't, can't, go into it now. Instead, she asks quietly, "You don't think Arthur would ..."

"No." Gwen's whisper is firm, but there's an underpinning of anxiety. "He can't."

They're quiet for a few moments, Morgana listening to the rustle of her chain mail in Gwen's hands.

"Will you see him differently now?"

Gwen hesitates a moment, but then her mouth forms a wry sort of smile, and she shrugs helplessly. "He's Merlin."

"And..." _And me?_ Morgana can't quite form the question, not even out here in the dark.

Gwen takes Morgana's hand and, by way of an answer, laces their fingers together.

  


~~~

  
Back in Camelot, things are almost normal, with more routine and less forced proximity. They return tired and less triumphant than perhaps they should be; Merlin's childhood home is safe for now, but his childhood friend is dead.

Still, they succeeded, and predictably, Uther is livid that she and Arthur defied him and left the city. The night they return he rages and bellows and sends her glares over his goblet from his end of the dinner table.

As far as Morgana is concerned, there's a small measure of triumph in that. Besides, Uther thinks that no one notices the (faint) pride in his expression even as he berates Arthur.

When he threatens to demand that Arthur find a new servant, Arthur breathes through his nose and says nothing. He does not look at Merlin, and Gwen and Morgana exchange glances from where they stand, off to the right of the throne.

Fortunately, Uther neither follows through on the threat nor notices anything is amiss.

  


~~~

  
Over the next week, Merlin runs a lot of errands for Gaius and Arthur's armour is distinctly less shiny at sword practice. Still, Arthur does not formally remove Merlin from his service. Morgana watches him train the knights from her window, sees the steely determination on his face and the energy he puts into every blow and parry.

He has yet to speak to any of them.

Since Ealdor, her dreams are even worse; she wakes with her head spinning and her mind whirling with confusion. Always at the back of her mind is the newfound knowledge that there's someone in the castle who knows what this is. He knows. Perhaps he's always known; perhaps that's why, sometimes, when he's near her she swears she feels something thick and indefinable and impossible in the air between them.

What if Merlin can explain what's happening to her?

She wants to speak with him, but she's scarcely seen him since they got back. Obviously this is intentional on his part, but it can't go on forever; he owes them all more than that. Owes _her_, she can't help but think.

Morgana resolves to seek him out one afternoon after letting Gwen leave for the day. On the way to Gaius' chambers, though, she passes Arthur's rooms. Finding the door slightly open, she finds herself slowing down, pressing a hand on the door to swing it wider. She doesn't bother to knock.

Despite ... well, everything, it feels strange not to talk to him.

Arthur is sprawled in a great wooden chair in that way of his, seemingly relaxed if not for the troubled look on his face. When he sees Morgana, he lifts a brow, his index finger resting against his temple as he leans his elbow on the arm of the chair.

"Do come in," he drawls, waving his free hand, "please. Feel free. No, of course there's no need to knock; just walk right in."

"Funny."

"Do I _look_ amused to you?"

"You look like a petulant child."

"I might have been _indecent_."

"And do you always leave your door partly open when you're indecent?" Morgana tilts her head.

"Shut up."

"Oh, that stings."

Arthur deals her a baleful glare and moves to stand. "What do you want?"

"To see if you're still alive," Morgana replies. "Or perhaps to check if you've gone mute in the last week? Things are awfully quiet around the castle."

"Maybe I just don't want to talk to you." Arthur moves to the window and rests his hand against the frame.

"Or Merlin?" Morgana steps closer and watches Arthur's knuckles go white as his fingers tighten on the wooden window frame. She moves so that she can see him in profile: his jaw is clenched and tension strains his features.

"Don't." He bites off the word.

Morgana watches him and can't help but consider how easily she could be the one responsible for the look on his face. For all that they snipe at each other, she doesn't know if she can bear that.

"I'm every bit as angry as you," she offers. It's increasingly true, though for different reasons than Arthur's.

"You have _no_ idea how I … how this feels, Morgana," Arthur says tightly. "I can't be around someone I cannot trust."

And _that_ makes Morgana go cold all over, but Arthur would not know this. "Yet you keep him in your service."

"For now," he says. "It's complicated."

"Yes," she replies simply, because that's the only real certainty about any of this. She doesn't know what she meant to gain by coming here, apart from some indication of how to process this. She cannot share Gwen's uncomplicated faith in Merlin, but she cannot relate to Arthur's anger either; not in the same way.

After all, she's hiding something too, now. Something that could be huge. "Will you tell Uther?"

"Father will have Merlin's head if I do."

"But you won't--"

"Oh, what do you _think_, Morgana?" Arthur steps away from the window and turns to her. She gets a good look at his face, the naked hurt in his blue eyes, and she can't help reaching up to brush his hair off his forehead.

"Arthur..."

"Look," Arthur shakes his head as Morgana lowers her hand. "I haven't ... I don't know what to do about any of this. I just need some time."

With a nod, Morgana drops the issue and they both turn to the window again. Arthur crosses his arms as he looks down at the courtyard. Morgana's eyes widen when she realises that the lonely figure she sees sitting on the steps below them is Merlin. Arthur watches him with an inscrutable look on his face and Morgana feels the urge to touch him again, to offer some kind of comfort. Neither of them is exactly the cuddly sort, though.

Eventually, Gwen enters the courtyard, and they watch her approach Merlin tentatively, until finally she lowers to sit beside him on his step. They're much too far away to hear what's being said.

It feels distinctly strange to be watching them now, and together, Morgana and Arthur turn away from the window.

"Your chambers are an utter mess," she comments, glancing sidelong at him.

"Is that a fact?"

She nods again. "They're atrocious, really."

Some of the tension leaves his face as he looks around at his cluttered rooms, then back at Morgana. His quiet snort calms her far more than it should. "I see no difference."

  


~~~

  
It isn't until the next day that she seeks Merlin out again, but Gaius is alone in his chambers when she arrives.

"Come in, child." He is distracted with his flasks and burners, but he smiles warmly enough and waves her over. Morgana decides that if he does know that Merlin's a sorcerer, he hasn't yet found out that _they_ know.

"Hello, Gaius."

"What can I do for my favourite patient?"

Morgana smiles automatically, but without much humour. "I was actually hoping to find Merlin."

"He is rarely here during the day," Gaius waves a hand in the general direction of Merlin's room. "I sent him for some herbs, but knowing him he's probably gone off on a hunting trip with Arthur."

She doesn't comment on just how unlikely that is at the moment.

"As it happens, I was hoping to run into you today, or I'd have sent Merlin in your direction eventually," Gaius continues, and she looks at him curiously. "I've prepared another sleeping draught for you; surely you're running low."

"I -- yes," Morgana says carefully, watching Gaius stopper a small vial. It's the same potion he has handed her since she was little more than a child, but suddenly it might as well be on fire. She hesitates.

"Well, it won't bite you, child," Gaius makes a gently impatient sound as he holds out the vial. Finally, Morgana accepts it, and drops her hand to her side. The glass is warm against her fingers and it weighs down her arm like so much lead.

"Gaius, I couldn't find --" Merlin swings open the door and stops short when he sees Morgana. She lifts her chin and turns to him. Merlin hangs back, leaning on the jamb.

Gaius clearly doesn't notice anything. "Well, come on, boy. I haven't got all afternoon." He waves Merlin forward; Merlin studiously avoids Morgana's gaze.

"I, ehm, couldn't find any more yarrow," he said. "Looked all over."

"You weren't looking in the right place, then."

Merlin gives a shrug. "Maybe someone already picked it?"

"That's impossible." Gaius heaves a sigh. "Come, then -- I'll show you. I keep you around so that I don't _have_ to do everything myself, you know," he adds, but there's affection in his tone.

Morgana steps forward before Merlin can follow Gaius out the door. "I will need Merlin to stay for a few moments," she says, raising a brow at Merlin when he starts to shake his head. "He'll catch you up. I just need him for … something."

"Very well." Gaius shuffles out.

"I didn't think you a coward," Morgana says without preamble, the moment they are alone.

Merlin closes his eyes briefly. "I couldn't tell you."

"That's not what I mean," she says. "How long did you think you could avoid us?"

He frowns, almost as if he didn't expect this to be what Morgana would say. "I … didn't think he -- didn't think you'd want to see me."

"Where did you learn to do that? What you did in Ealdor."

"I didn't _learn_, not exactly," Merlin shrugs. "I've been doing it since I was born."

"How?" Morgana drops her voice and moves closer. "How are you controlling it?"

"Gaius has been helping me since I've arrived," he says, and Morgana's fingers clench so tightly on the vial of potion that she's surprised it doesn't break. "But it's not something you can learn. Magic ..." Merlin meets her eyes for the first time since he entered the room, and she feels something pass between them, something almost solid. "It chooses you."

Morgana thinks back to their conversation in her chambers, with the Druid boy lying between them. "What are you saying?"

"I think you know." She does, of course. He's speaking so quietly she can barely hear him; it's more dangerous than either of them can imagine to even be saying these things aloud.

She nods jerkily. "And if I... If this can be controlled, could I do what you do?"

"I don't know," Merlin says, and she believes him. "I can't do the same thing you can."

"Lucky you," she says hollowly. It's more of a struggle than she anticipated, keeping her expression cool. "Why did you not tell me?"

"I ... couldn't."

"Didn't."

"My Lady…"

"Never mind," Morgana holds up her free hand and shakes her head. She leans forward and rests her hands on the heavy wooden table in the centre of the room. Glancing up, she locks eyes with him. "In future, you won't keep things like this from me." It isn't a question, nor does she intend for it to be.

Merlin's brow furrows briefly; he seems faintly relieved, if a little puzzled by the turn of the conversation, but he agrees. "No."

She nods once and straightens, moving to the door. "Gaius will be expecting you." It's a dismissal, a clear one, but she softens as she turns back to him.

"Arthur won't say anything to Uther," she says. He is standing behind a chair, his knuckles white as he holds the back of it. "But it's not up to him to seek you out, Merlin."

  


~~~

  
Over the next few days, there is a tacit agreement between them that neither will tell Arthur about Morgana's magic. There is so little that she herself understands. She wants to learn more, to keep this to herself at least until she knows better what this is. What _she_ is.

A (not so) small part of her also wants to spare herself the look on Arthur's face when he finds out.

A Seer; that's all Merlin has been able to tell her. What she's meant to see is still unclear. It's nice, though, to be able to talk to someone who knows -- even if she can't share with him, or Gwen, or anyone exactly what she dreams and what she's afraid it means.

~~~

  
Merlin goes to Arthur at the end of the week.

She and Gwen resist the urge to loiter shamelessly in the corridor outside of Arthur's rooms (Morgana's shoes would make too much noise anyway), and instead Gwen accompanies her to the roof of the castle.

"Do you think they'll be all right?" Gwen asks, and Morgana moves a shoulder as she rests her hands on the great stone wall and looks out over the city.

"You know Arthur," she says with a lightness she doesn't quite feel, "he just needs to have his sulk sometimes."

"They'll be fine," Gwen says, nodding quickly as if that settles it. "Of course they will be. They just need to have this out."

"Hopefully. It's no good having Merlin banished from Camelot the moment I find out I'm not alone." There's an edge to Morgana's smile.

"Did you think yourself alone before?" Gwen looks at her closely.

"I think I did," Morgana admits, "but perhaps I wasn't quite right about that."

Gwen ducks her head and smiles faintly. "Still, someone better able to understand ... that must be --"

They both glance up, then back at each other as they hear footsteps in the stone stairwell. Arthur walks out and stops short, clearly not expecting to see them, and for a moment he looks as if he can't work out whether to turn round or not. Morgana can't help the slight smirk that curves her lips as she watches him. He clears his throat, his expression faintly irritated, but finally he moves forward to join them at the ledge.

Merlin ambles out a few moments later, Arthur's helmet and a cloth in his hands. Morgana lifts her brow at Arthur, who gives her a look that says plainly: _'What?'_

"He has a lot of lost time to make up for," Arthur says shortly, and Morgana rolls her eyes and exchanges glances with Gwen.

Merlin, for his part, looks furtively toward Arthur and moves to Gwen's side at the ledge. Relief seems to roll off him in waves, and it's contagious; the furrow between Gwen's brow dissolves, and the tension about Arthur's shoulders is somewhat less than it was.

For a while, all they hear is the soft sound of Merlin's cloth on Arthur's helmet, and for now, it's enough.


End file.
